Category Archives: Inside the Book

Inside the Book, Thoughts on Life

I Am The Heart

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from The House Loved Us…A Collection of Poems About Life and Loss

I am the heart

that beats for family

beats for women

beats for all

Sing a song of care

Let my heart beat loudly

when life tries to end that force.

I beat for those I love

I hear the cries

of people, men,

women, children

crying for their losses.

Let my heart not harden

against the people who

have hardened their

hearts against me.

I am the heart

Sometimes broken

by the weight

of misdeeds, of

cries that harbor

in the body of the heart.

I beat for those I love

who do the right thing

no matter the price

they pay.

I am the heart

one of many

conscious of the burden of people

everywhere.

Hear the wails of

broken marriages, loss

of family, the quiet

whimpers of the

sleeping child.

Sometimes no one hears me

no matter how strong

the heart beats.

I am the heart

joyous but

afflicted with

the sorrows of the world.

The heart is heavy,

burdened

I can’t do everything.

When my heart is broken

and weeps and weeps

but then revives itself

open, ready for the love

kindness, and generosity,

of nameless spirits.

Inside the Book, Poetry

Identity

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I always think I’m
not in the right place
at the right time
doing the right thing
whatever right is.
I always feel that I’m
not wearing the right clothes
no matter how many clothes I buy.
Sheila always seems
perfectly groomed,
informal for informality
tailored for such occasions,
wearing stockings while
I go bare-legged to the theater
feeling gross,
not dressed correctly
not in concert
with my age, status, or place in life.
The next time
I wear stockings
and she looks perfect
in jeans
and a red shirt.
Lucy gets a job
selling insurance
and I think that’s the right thing
even though I hate selling
and hate insurance.
But for one long week
I read the business section
of the New York Times
thinking I should
apply for those jobs.
but I never do.

Inside the Book, Poetry

You’re Right, I am Contentious

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I wouldn’t say I feel like this all the time. But there are moments. I wanted to share this poem because I feel it’s something a lot of people can relate to. This poem is from The House Loved Us, available on Amazon.

When you give me a bottle of

bath oil for my birthday after

seeing I only take showers.

Or you say you admire me for all

my close relationships and then

sulk when I visit a needy

friend.

When the son I adore

can’t get a job

in the public sector

because there is no longer

any interest in the

public interest

When my childhood friend,

now sick, divorced

and the mother of

two teenage boys

can’t get enough

food stamps

under Reaganomics.

When my mother asks me

to come for a visit,

and when I do

berates me for never

coming to visit.

When the local policeman

gives me a ticket

on the first day of Spring,

after he hides in the bushes

waiting to make me feel like

a criminal for not making

a complete stop.

And my daughter’s landlord

who reveres Polish solidarity,

reads The Nation

and believes he believes

in the common man

raises her rent illegally.

I bristle when the

local town officer asks

a twenty-five-year resident

to notarize a statement that his

grown daughter really lives

with him since her divorce.

I feel contentious…

When I never have enough money no matter

 how hard I work.

When I feel life has suddenly gone by and I have

 only done one-third the things I wanted to.

When a close friend refers to someone as

 a Jew boy.

When I realize I’m just one person.

Inside the Book

Get an Autographed Copy of The Myth of the Yellow Kitchen

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20151216_112430What do you do when your dream is shattered? Create a new dream. Life was coming together just as I had expected with a husband, children and the yellow kitchen I’d always wanted. It fell apart when my husband abruptly announced he wanted a divorce. I discovered  there is more to life than a yellow kitchen. Read about my journey to a new life and be inspired to make the most of yours in The Myth of the Yellow Kitchen.

For a limited time, I am offering exclusive autographed copies of the Myth of the Yellow Kitchen. To get yours for the just $16.95, send an email to rhoadawald@rcn.com. Free shipping.

Inside the Book

Looking for a Thought Provoking Book for Your Book Club?

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The Myth of the Yellow Kitchen explores the unexpected challenges life throws at us and how to we respond to them.
I wrote this book to show that you can not only survive but thrive through adversity. It’s an intimate look at the complicated sometimes troubled relationships we have to navigate and an insight into the victories we can create.
 This book can be used as a jumping off point for book club discussions on what life sends our way and how we respond. It’s a slice of real life intended to be both thought-provoking and inspirational.

Continue reading Looking for a Thought Provoking Book for Your Book Club? →

Inside the Book

Worry

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An Extract from The Myth of the Yellow Kitchen

Today we are having an “almost” blizzard. The snow began falling last night and the reports indicate that we may have up to twenty inches of snow by tomorrow. My son needed to fly home from California, and scheduled a flight for today. When I heard the weather report, I began to worry how he would get home. Fortunately, he changed to a flight last night and arrived this morning, but with a fever of 102 degrees. So I am still worried. Why didn’t he take the flu shot? If the fever turns into pneumonia, it would be his second bout in five years.

No wonder I worry.

My oldest grandson came home last night because his girlfriend’s father is suddenly in the hospital. How will he get back to school for his finals? He didn’t bring boots, will he catch pneumonia? His brother, Justin, stayed overnight with a friend from school. Marian, my daughter and his mother, drove to Hamilton to pick him up. That is the area which, so far, has the most snow, almost eight inches already. This causes me great worry.

At six in the morning, my other daughter, Beth, opened the health club she and her husband own. She is going to close the club at noon, but then how will she get home?

“Don’t worry Mom,” she says, “I know what I am doing, I have it all under control.”

And how come she is opening the club? What about him? I worry that I can’t help her. She is, after all, forty-five, and can take care of herself.

The woman upstairs is away, and her daughter left at 7:30 a.m. to take the SAT’s. How will she get home? She was wearing a skimpy jacket. Did she have boots? I couldn’t convince her that the test might be cancelled or repeated. I seem to worry about children everywhere, mine, my grandchildren, and other people’s.
Jonathan, my-fifteen-year-old grandson, has his second bout with strep throat in less than a month. Do I need to repeat how that worries me?

I read in the Boston Globe that people with H-Pylori can get stomach cancer. I had H-Pylori. Should I also worry about myself? Do I have time? Do I have the energy to worry about my own health?
When I am ninety and my children seventy, will I still worry? Probably. And I can’t give up my last worry. Is this writing any good? I have no way of knowing and worry that I don’t know.